


Bird On A Wire

by Interrobang



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, both of them are former pleasurebots and i could go on for hours about how they gained independence, egregious bullshit about how omnic bodies work, shy B.O.B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: B.O.B. is extremely shy. Zenyatta wants to know him better. (Sexily.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for someone on Patreon, and it was released there first. I could have EASILY written twice as much for these two. Hell, maybe a whole fic one day about them legit falling in robot love.

They often sat together in an ill-used storage room that had been converted to a meditation space for the monk. It was little more than a closet with a reinforced pallet to sit on courtesy of Torbjorn, but it was cozy with Bob's hulking for crowded close, and all in all Zenyatta found the situation most comfortable.

"Do you feel it today, Bob?" Zenyatta mused as he leaned against the massive omnic's barrel chest. "The Iris flows on the wind this morning."

Bob tilted his head towards the window in a way that Zenyatta knew meant he agreed, then looked down at his companion. His eyes whirred and blinked fluorescent green. One large hand came up and patted Zenyatta's shoulder.

Zenyatta laughed, and gently rolled so that he and Bob could more comfortably lay down. It was nice like this, clinking together like wind chimes in the quiet meditation space. Zenyatta stroked his hand over Bob's chassis. There was still so much to discover about the older omnic. Bob hadn't been a current model when his human charge was young, and he'd never quite gotten around to upgrading. Zenyatta didn't mind, though; it made him sturdy and durable, his whirring parts warm to the monk's more sophisticated sensors.

"You have a lovely shape," Zenyatta couldn't help but murmur. He laughed, low and warm, when Bob whirred and tilted his head away in embarrassment. "No need to deny it, my friend." He stroked Bob's chassis, running a finger over each raised bolt and seam. "I like the spots of rust. They're quite dashing. The dents and dings, as well."

Bob shuffled, and fanned himself with one hand as if he was a swooning Southern belle.

Zenyatta rand a hand down to the omnic's waist. "I like your sense of style," the monk continued, picking at the gleaming belt buckle and furry lapels of Bob's vest. "And the studs and chains, while we're at it. Very nice. Very...tough."

Bob warmed under Zenyatta's wandering hands. If he'd had a mouth, Zenyatta would have been smiling serenely. As it was, he could only lay his head down with a clink against Bob's bare chest, his audio processors straining to hear the big omnic's parts whirring under his cheek.

"And this," Zenyatta breathed, letting his hand drop to Bob's thigh. "Most humans have no idea what you were built for, do they, Bob?"

Bob froze. Zenyatta continued.

"Built as a pleasure bot for some discontented housewife, and discarded when a newer model came out." Zenyatta clicked disapprovingly. "Left to raise her child. What a life you've led, Bob. But has anyone maintained you recently?"

Bob turned away, one massive hand on his cheek. Artificial sweat gleamed on his forehead, trickling down in small rivulets to soak into his clothes.

Zenyatta slipped his hand further up Bob's thigh, resting on the large omnic's hip.

"I spent some time in that industry. Before I was a monk, I felt lost. I knew what humans had built my body for, but I did not know what _I_ needed it for. What its purpose was, beyond the metal and wiring." His voice processor huffed a soft laugh. "But the pleasure was always there. Sometimes tied to guilt, sometimes tied to euphoria."

He knocked his faceplate against Bob's side, firing off a little flash of static between them.

"But I know, too, what is like to deny your nature. Let me take care of you, friend."

Bob stared at Zenyatta, seemingly awestruck. The sweat on his brow intensified, dripping a dull brown down his neck. But then, with the tiniest of movements, he let the gap between his legs widen.

Zenyatta  slipped his hand under the waistband of Bob's pants, petting metal seams and foreign nodes.  He laughed again-- albeit gently-- when he brushed against a certain node and Bob jumped. Whether in surprise or genuine enjoyment, it didn't matter. Zenyatta was pleased.

The monk slipped down further, to the soft panel between Bob's thighs. There soft silicon parted like lips, hiding an attachment usually kept internal. Now Zenyatta teased the sensors around the lips and urged Bob with gentle petting to let himself relax. And slowly, the appendage slipped out.

Zenyatta scoffed. "Self-lubricating. Of course. You must have been a top-of-the-line model once, hm?"

The monk palmed Bob’s dick slowly, getting a feel for the smooth, artificially-slick texture of it. Bob shuddered and whirred under his touch, warmed from the inside out. When Bob’s chassis whined with the speed of his cooling systems in overdrive, Zenyatta easily rolled over to straddle one of Bob’s thick legs. Parting his own robes, Zenyatta revealed a slit similar to the one that had hidden Bob’s dick. But instead of an external attachment, when Zenyatta slipped two of his long fingers between the silicon folds, he revealed an internal passage.

“Let me treat you right, friend,” Zenyatta said breathlessly, his voice rasping with urgency. He climbed on top of Bob, his slender legs spread wide over Bob’s giant waist. Still gripping the thick, shiny appendage, Zenyatta eased himself down, moaning as his own secret mechanisms took Bob in. 

Bob whirred and covered his face with his massive hands. When Zenyatta reached down to gently move them away, Bob’s face was hot under his palm sensors. His eyes whirred and glowed in turns, fluorescent green and seemingly unable to focus on anything in particular. 

Zenyatta tilted his head affectionately, stroking Bob’s face. Slowly, he rolled his hips and squeezed his internal mechanisms, pulling Bob’s cock deeper into himself. The monk lifted himself up and dropped down again and again, slowly riding the bigger omnic. The meditation room’s silence was quickly overtaken by wet noises and the sound of the two omnic bodies moving against each other. 

Bob’s internal mechanisms whined and whirred as he shifted under Zenyatta, looking up with reverence at the monk riding him. Zenyatta’s faceplate was tilted up towards the open window, his body moving fluidly as he urged Bob to participate. Zenyatta pet at the regions of the servant omnic’s body he knew would be most sensitive: the joins of metal, the sensor-laden nodes in secret areas of the legs and chest. The monk shuddered and clenched down when Bob’s cock twitched inside him, spitting more of the slick that must have once driven his human partners wild. 

“There we go,” Zenyatta urged when Bob rolled against him once, minutely thrusting against Zenyatta’s hip plate. “Enjoy yourself.” He whispered a bit of static — something crackly and weak — when Bob put one massive hand on his tapered waist and pulled the monk’s slim body down against himself. He crackled again when Bob’s other hand came up to join it, and before long Bob was lifting Zenyatta up and down, whispering the smallest bit of static through his ill-used vocal synthesizer.

Zenyatta laughed through a moan. “That’s the most vocal I’ve heard you in a long time,” Zenyatta said affectionately. He cut himself off with a crackly moan, clenching down and shuddering when Bob slipped one thumb down to press at the soft, sensitive seam of Zenyatta’s pleasure mechanism. 

Zenyatta relaxed, dropping into euphoria as he once again became his most base self. He slipped back to his early days, when he could exist simply as a being of pure pleasure. He moaned and whined a high mechanical chirping when Bob pulled out and instead rubbed his thick cock against Zenyatta’s stretched-out opening, smearing slick and oil-sweat all along his groin-plate. 

It was enough to make a monk weak.


	2. A Tender Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spark is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to write more originally. I just...really like these two.

Zenyatta lays on his front, and Bob plays him like a beautiful, much-loved instrument. The larger omnic plucks at his wires, the exposed cord of his spinal column, all the wires and nodes and plugs and ports that make up Zenyatta’s central nervous system. His large fingers carefully pet the thin strands of metal and plastic, plucking each in turn as if he is fingering out a tune on a fine harp.

And Zenyatta sighs.

He sighs, and shivers, and short-circuits in turn. He shudders and jolts when his nerves are stung with electric pulses, flinches when his fans stutter against the uneven current. He grabs Bob’s large knee with one of his hands-- holds onto the only thing close to him-- and rides it out, sensors gone deaf with pleasure.

He exists in space, and is cognizant of his soul, but he feels boundless. Feels the Iris all around him, glowing gold and fizzing like champagne. He sees literal sparks as Bob twists one wire, then braids another around it, unplugging this one or that one to weave them in as he sees fit.

And when he’s done-- patting Zenyatta’s back for a job well done-- the large bot stands, and holds his hand out for Zenyatta’s own. And Zenyatta gives it to him. Stands on sure feet that feel lighter than usual. He fights the urge to float, and instead tethers himself to the ground with the tips of his feet, grounded as the great conductors of yore. 

Woven and shining, blinding as a small sun contained in a simple metal shell for simple daily function. 

Somehow, brilliantly, alive.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information about early releases and other content, follow my Twitter @GoInterrobang or my Tumblr @hhgggx.


End file.
